WAR | A Strong Fortress

[MonteGiant 891]

༺⊰☼⊱༻

 

There upon the Peak of the Dwarvish Fortress did the Tawantinsuyin warband under the Kondorisi known as Tupaq Amaru stood, cries of victory after laying death upon many an uruk, dwarf, and elf. With each one that fell by their hand, another head was claimed, and upon that peak they stood, raising their quarry and calling aloud. . .

 

“KALLPASAPAKUNALLA!”

 

Words that are held deep within each of the Warband, words that will be shouted by the Tawantinsuyin people until the end of days, for it means…

 

Only The Strong.

 

[Luto 439]

The first inches those walls gave did a Dragon Knight burst through to live up to her banner's repute - not to feast on the guts of garden gnomes, but to collect material spoils for the Imperial hoard.

... back in the Lord Marshal's office, Noiye picks up the logistical backlog in midst of Vander's recovery. Even now there is still more to do, and that many more dwarves to squash 'neath GOD's hungry war machine.
 

[carawithcookies 145]

Elsbeth would be limping back to whatever safety she could find in face of defeat, the Halfling longed for the comforts of Amberdell again, praying to Knox that the artillery ruined the day of a Imperial or two.

[Sir_omni 151]

Over the great inner sea of azuras near the coast of inpanema a man sees the smoke rising in the distance, it wasn’t long till he remaining soldiers came marching home

thears flooding his face seeing that one off his best friends Ser Duncan the Tall survived and then the new came over the lost battle, and so he rode forth into the lands to spread the message….

[TaraJess 2848]

Aurelian Greye quite genuinely enjoyed being the one to fire many a treb shot, and was rather gleeful when Kusi yelled back at her to inform her of her shot that blew someone in the opposition about thirty feet into the air...

[Morigung-oog 5697]

Holy Ser Valithael af Bene Lisse received the message via the trembling hand of a rather skittish servant. The contents were read allowed while the 'fenn examined the blood that coated her blade--  blood belonging to those she once called "kin".

 

She did not hate Haelun’or. Hate required passion, and passion was a luxury she had long since outgrown. What remained was something colder: a vivid accounting of how she had been measured, weighed, and found lacking, not for a lack of competency, but purely for the circumstances of her birth and belief; the faith of Man that had carried her when elvenkind in its entirety had left her to rot.

 

A younger, more naïve version of herself had prayed for mercy.

 

Those prayers were answered; the Silver State had taught her, thoroughly, what that mercy looked like, and it was not what she had envisioned.

 

She'd been welcomed into the city initially not as an equal, but equated rather to that of a wild beast in name of taming by virtue of her blood. With centuries, that coldness, in part subsided, but she was never truly considered one of them.. Not when she bled for them, nor when she brought their centuries-long enemy to its knees. She had destroyed civilisations in their name, in the name of Larihei Lomahnih-- and yet it was not enough. It would never be enough.

 

Valithael recalled the day the final slivers her denial died. She remembered defending the city, its people. She remembered the mages summoning a colossal boulder above both her and their attacker. They would never, she thought as she witnessed the shade of the rock's shadow fall over her... The next memory she had was waking up in the clinic, her limbs crushed and her one good arm being held by her Fennic sister who was forced to break the news that she might never walk again.

 

It was not the leadership of Haelun'or that rushed to her aid. While sympathetic-- and likely impure citizens-- did try to save her, it was the actions of a druid and foreigners to the Silver State who once would have been condemned to the acid pits who called in a human shaman to save her life.

 

When she questioned, when she queried about the nature and the reasoning behind the collateral, two words rang out through the air and seared themselves into her mind.

 

Mali'fenn

 

Expendable.

 

It was a wicked truth, and one she vowed never to forget.

 

Whenever Valithael spied a soul in the pale armor of elsillumiran she would switch from her favoured glaive to a brutal war-hammer so that they might know her pain. Each one, she prayed would be Antelian or his brother. Others were merely collateral on her path to revenge.

 

It mattered not if they pleaded, fled or fought.

 

Valithael targeted those she once called kin, picking them out among the seas of dwed and uruks.

 

The Empire would done worse, she concluded. This was her mercy.

 

In her moment of vengeance, Holy Ser Valithael taught them what it truly meant to be expendable.

 

"For the Emperor. Ave Imperium!"